Follow Me on NBC’s Escape Routes!

My brother Derek, and my self, have taken off on a new adventure on NBC’s reality TV show, “Escape Routes”, a new TV show that sends six teams on a nationwide collaborative competition, each in an all-new 2013 Ford Escape. The teams work with their fans to conquer various challenges and tasks in order to win prizes around every turn. The teams play to win the ultimate reward of $100,000 and their very own 2013 Ford Escape.

We need your help! First, sign up on EscapeRoutes.com. Then, choose to join Derek and Drew on Team Black. Next, help your team decipher clues and puzzles in weekly and daily challenges, through live-streaming video of your drivers. Win various games, rack up enough points and badges, and both you and your drivers could take the grand prize, a 2013 Ford Escape.

Make sure to follow me (@konzybaby) and Derek (@derekkonzelman) on Twitter, and watch Escape Routes, Saturday nights at 8/7c on NBC.

 

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Perfect Timing

Today I swung by the Gathering Project where my seventy-six year old friend David Corner works tirelessly to send medical good all over the world.  But today I didn’t swing by to see David, I swung by to see my brother Darien completing is Eagle Scout project by helping load and pack boxes to be sent abroad.

While I was there talking to David he mentioned that the last load of Tents that my friend Joel and I had tried to send to Haiti had finally made it through customs.  The crazy part is we had been working on getting the tents there for months and months.  Trying to get past customs regulations, bribes, and red tape took much longer than we had expected or hoped and we were sad to think that families were living without the shelter that these tents could provide.  But I could tell David was eager to tell me something I hadn’t yet heard.  He said the tents had finally gotten in, and they had arrived in a shipping container that also contained food and medical supplies just three days after the huricane had hit, ripping the roofs off many of the homes in the area and leaving even more families without shelter.

If the tents had gotten right through they would for sure have gotten used, but would not have been needed nearly as much as they were three days after the hurricane.  Sometimes God says yes, sometimes He says no, and sometimes He says wait.  And it is really awesome when you get to see why!  His ways are higher than our ways. He really does know best.

 

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Scared of St Patrick’s Day?

I stopped by Starbucks today on my way into the studio to grab a coffee as I geared up for the longest and often best day of my work week.  I instantly remembered that it was St Patrick’s day, as everyone inside Starbucks had green on, even the guys wearing suits had hints of green somewhere on their person.

I began to think about why people wear green on this day that honers a Saint who died more than 1500 years ago.  Does anyone even know who St Patrick is or what he did during his life? I sure didn’t.  And yet people wear green so they don’t get pinched or heckled.  They wear green to fit into a cultural norm that occurs but once a year.  It seems crazy to me that an entire country will don green attire to please everyone else’s desire to fit in, and protect themselves from being antagonized for something that really doesn’t matter at all.

I then began to think about Japan, and the people who lost their lives there.  What if instead of wearing green on St Patrick’s day we wore orange.  We wore orange to represent the lives that were lost in this most recent catastrophe.  Interesting to think about isn’t it.  I bet that I wouldn’t see orange shirts on the Starbucks employees, or orange ties and dress socks on the businessmen and women.

Don’t get me wrong, celebrating St Patrick’s day is a good thing.  Though the only green I will be wearing today is a few one dollar bills in my back pocked and a Starbucks logo on the cup in my right hand.

You see, St Patrick became significant because he had no fear.  He didn’t fear what people thought of him.  Patrick was a 16 years old British kid who was captured by the Irish and taken back to Ireland where he worked for 6 years as a slave before escaping back to his family.  After some training in his local church in Britain, he went back to Ireland and preached the Gospel to the very people who had captured him.  You see, St Patrick didn’t have fear.

How ironic that 1500 years later we wear green on the 17th of March.  Why? Because we want to fit in.  We want to be accepted.  But the cold reality is that nothing is going to change in this world until we don’t fit it.  Until we break the mold like Patrick did.  Until we live so differently than the people around us, they cannot help but be changed.

So today, I am wearing orange.  In honor of St Patrick.  Because if he was still around today, I guarantee you that he wouldn’t be wearing green.  He would likely be wearing a bright orange jump suit running around trying to convince others to join his cause of change.  So be the change today.  Don’t conform any longer to the patterns of this world.

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What do you hate?

What do you hate?

I have two levels of hate in my life.  The first is lighter.  More on the surface, and contains things that irritate me.  I hate the sound of chewing.  I hate wicker furniture.  I hate it when my debit card doesn’t work in the checkout line and people are lined up behind me.  These are things I hate.

But there is a deeper level of hate in me as well.  Hate that can make me physically ill if I dwell on it to long.  I hate rape.  I hate lust and what it has done to rob our culture of love. I hate racism.  I hate poverty. I hate it when I realize the things that irritate me in other are the very things I struggle with most.

The deepest feelings of hate I feel do not compare to the hate God feels towards our pride.  His hate of pride is Holy and fierce. “God cannot bear seeing his glory appropriated by the creature in even the smallest degree. So intolerable to him is the sacrilegious arrogance of those who by praising themselves, obscure His glory as far as they can.” -John Calvin

And what’s crazy to me is that God is actively opposed to it.  Not that God opposed it, but that He stands in active opposition to the essence of who we are most of the time.  Let me distill that statement: if you are living as a prideful person, God is actively opposed to you. “God opposes the proud” (James 4:6).

So lets look at the converse of that.  With God in his rightful place as King, and us realizing that our pride separates us from Him and needs to be confessed: our lives will be aligned with God. Our purpose will be efficient in Him.  Our calling will be sure.  My good friend Joel Parker always says, “we need to take ourselves off the throne of our lives and replace God in is rightful place”.  Our functional God needs to be the one who hates pride.  Our pride needs to be the one that is lost along the wayside.  And if you are like me, we will need His help in doing that.

“Pride is the essence of all sin.” -John Stott

God, I don’t want to rob you of your glory. I don’t want to steal away what only you deserve any longer.  I want to make much of You, today. I realize your supremacy and I need Your grace.  May your grace draw my up to new heights with you this day, and forevermore may I live to make YOUR name great in this world. Amen.

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The Wayside.

Don’t fall to the wayside.
Don’t get caught in the great divide.
When everyone fails, it’s all too easy to fail as well.
Don’t get lost in your life.
Stop filling up your time with things that don’t matter at all.
Start thinking about what does matter.
Think about what matters most.
You’ve only got one shot at this.
Don’t lose it all along the wayside.

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Konzbros.com

Screen shot 2010-06-10 at 12.07.55 PMHey- Be sure to check out the new Konzelman Brothers website, and sign up for the mailing list for all sorts of top secret goodies from the bros!  http://www.konzbros.com

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Special Olympics

IMG01477-20100604-1934-300x225This past week, the Konzelman Brothers had the opportunity to perform for the opening ceremonies of the Special Olympics. We were fairly tired and rushed getting onto McChord AFB where the games were to be held. I became excited as soon as we arrived and I realized how much work had gone into the setup of the event. Shortly after our sound check in the huge airplane hangar, buses started to arrive and the athletes poured out row after row. I met Paul Silvi from King 5 backstage and had a nice chat about media and the lifestyle that media lends itself to. Paul was super down to earth and genuinely interested in what we were doing with our music. I later saw him visiting with one of the parking attendants for nearly 20 min, certainly not something I would expect from a successful TV personality.

The speeches were awesome but the best part of the whole evening was when the athletes actually entered the stadium. The filed down the center isle filling the nearly 3,000 seats to the sound of inspiringly epic music. I couldn’t help but think that these athletes would probably have been just fine watching TV at home this night. But these fine athletes, through the huge efforts of the volunteers who put the whole event on, were SO blessed and excited to be a part of something so much bigger than themselves. I realized that it doesn’t matter who you decide to bless and encourage in a day. But today, I am looking for the individuals who I wouldn’t normally seek to encourage. Those are the people I am going to do my best to bless.

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Photo Shoot

My brothers and I are working hard on preparing for our summer travels and shows.  We recently had a photo shoot for some updated promotional material.  Here is the timelapse.

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Red Robin Employees Give to Haiti

The winners of a recent employee contest donated their $500 visa gift card to the Haiti Tent Drive! This money will be used directly to ship the remaining 600 tents to Haiti, topping off a container already nearly full of food and medical supplies.  Special thanks to the generosity of those valiant few who decided to give to something bigger then themselves.  So, next time you are at Red Robin, tip big.

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Joel Parker of the Nations Foundation and Drew Konzelman arrived home late last night from Port Au-Prince Haiti.  They flew out of Seatac at midnight on Friday night.  After three connections and one seven-hour layover, they arrived in Santo Domingo with a box of tents, some medical supplies, and tired but eager spirits.  The team that was headed into Haiti consisted of 11 people, 5 of whom call the USA home, and the rest from the DR.  They were on the ground for three days in and around the port setting up medical clinics, tarps, tents, and making connections with areas outside of PAP that will be the targets of upcoming relief trips. Drew writes of their experience.

Into Haiti:

Quickly we packed bags, and strapped boxes and cases of medical supplies onto the truck. There was very little room for the eight people in the bed of the truck to sit down.Two people had to stand for the entire 8-hour drive into Haiti.

16 hours into the windy, cold, and bumpy ride we watched the sun start to rise on the horizon. At this point we’d not slept in nearly 50 hours, and eagerly awaited the warmth and energy the sunlight would bring. Anticipation gnawed on our minds as we drew close to what could easily be considered the most unstable place on earth.

We chose to travel through a border-crossing just past Jumani that was said to be open. This was the entry for Doctor Klein and his team during his first trip into the port. Confidence often goes un-questioned, and though risky, the driver thought it better not to stop the truck, and so we drove past armed guards and two sets of guarded gates into Haiti. The worst we got were questioning looks by the guards as our truck bounced across the border.

Another 3 hours of driving put the sun in a place that it began to warm our chilled minds and bodies. We had made it to the outlying areas of the port. Already we could see the quake’s effect on the structures along the road.gun

As the traffic slowed we began to see how large relief organizations might struggle in this already overcrowded environment. We drove past a massive camp compound set up by the United Nations. From the ground outside we saw the flags of various countries represented in the camp. Helicopters frequented the airspace, and airplanes landed every four or five minutes in the adjacent airfield. Every person we saw carried a large assault rifle or grenade launcher.

Day One:

We took the most direct route to where we would set up the first clinic. Skirting most of the downtown area, we drove through busy streets. Piles of rubbish burned in the streets, their smokey tinge mixing with the dusty smell of death. The odor hung heavy over the city. It seemed like every other 3 or 4-story building had either collapsed or was irreparably damaged. Most of the Hatians we drove past screamed for water, food or shelter. They made hand signals, visually displaying their needs to the white Americans on the back of our truck.

Another 20 minutes put us at the gate to the first compound.The compound had 14 foot tall walls that somehow survived the quake and subsequent tremors. We were greeted by a group of 6 Haitian men, one of whom aggressively yelled through bullhorn at the hungry onlookers. The truck came to a stop and our day on the ground began. We were some 50 plus hours into a journey that seemed to lead us to the heart of hell on earth.

clinicWithin the hour, we set up a basic tarp shelter for the medical clinic while Gary and Christy made preparations to begin treating the ill and injured, which began with the youngest members of the camp. Joel and I quickly realized that our role as videographers was secondary to our team’s primary goal of bringing shelter and sanitation to the most needy. Most of that day we hung tarps for shade, sneaking off to eat and drink the minimal supplies we’d brought. It was a long hot day, and in the fleeting light Joel and I set up our own tent to sleep in. We chose to be a safe distance from any building whose motivation to stand might be altered in the night by an aftershock, the force of which we’d witnessed already.

We fell asleep to the sound of babies crying and people singing to the irregular beat of a drum kit that miraculously survived the quake. It was 70 hours since our last sleep.

(i’ve never been as fatigued yet eager to act at the same time. solemly excited.)

Day Two:

We woke to the sounds of commotion. Breakfast consisted of two bottles of water and some sort of energy bar. We loaded the truck, leaving nothing behind and drove to the site of our second medical clinic at a compound a mere two blocks away.

Gary, Joel, and I headed out across the river for a tour of the slums. As we walked down the side of the canyon into the riverbed our feet were upon massive piles of garbage. The locals use the sides of the canyon as the local refuse dump. Much of this garbage made its way into the riverbed where we watched families bathe and fill water bottles with the obviously contaminated water. Pigs and dogs picked through the rubbish in search of food.

riverWe walked through bizarre alleys trying to make sense of the new areas we were entering. The disorganization of streets and alleys made navigation incredibly difficult and we found ourselves wandering through areas that were certainly less than safe and positively not secure. We entered a gate that opened into a series of almost overlapping houses.

A young man greeted us who quickly made the needs of their small community known. We learned that we had stumbled into a community called Jerusalem that contained 200 families. The concentration of people in these slum areas was astounding. We quickly learned that we were the very first relief of any kind that these communities had seen. We found ourselves contemplating the effectiveness of the hundreds of relief agencies and millions of dollars that had been mobilized when just a five minute walk from downtown put us in areas that had yet to see any help. The young man raised his arm to point at the mercy ships in the harbor, which were clearly visible from our vantage. He asked us in desperation why they had not been helped. All we could do was shake our heads and wonder the very same thing.

Upon returning to the compound we found that the people staying there were much more demanding and aggressive than at the first. At one point, a man named Markus approached us saying that he wanted a tent. We stated that the tents were specifically for women with infants and small children. He told us he was a convicted murderer, one of 4000 prisoners freed from a maximum security prison. Again, he requested a tent.

Tears welled up in Gary’s eyes as he clenched his fists with a firm resolve “Markus, I cannot give you a tent, tents are for women and children only.”

What our team shared with Markus in this moment was frustration. Frustration bred by dire circumstances. Markus left without a tent and we moved on.

After working all day to heal the sick and provide shelter for the weary, we left the camp to the sound of ungrateful booing. We simply did not have enough supplies for all of their needs. We did not have enough tents. We did not have enough medicine. We did not have enough water.

We spent our last evening watching the sun set through a smokey haze, as fires burned endlessly in the city. The columns of smoke billowed in two different colors. Brown smoke meant that trash was being burned. Black smoke meant that fuel had been used to burn bodies.

Once again we slept in our tent not inches from the ground, waking three different times in the night as the earth gave way to violent tremors. We kept our knives close at hand, should a quick escape from the tent be necessary.

Day Three:

Joel and I chose to place our tent outside the main yard, closer to the trucks. We slept uneasily on the cobblestone, waking every few hours to the sound of a baby crying or a tremor that shook us into a dazed fear.

The plan for the day was to head out of camp and visit the main hospital, which had been haphazardly set up in the heart of Port Au Prince. Gary wanted to see what improvements had been made since his first visit just two days after the quake. At rough estimate, 80 percent of the patients at the hospital were laying on beds in tents and under tarps. These were the lucky ones who had survived the amputations and rampant spread of gangrene that had already been claiming lives by the thousands.

buildingThe truck did several loops through the heart of the city. Each loop seemed to compile the devastation to the point where we were unable to process the sights and sounds. The smell of death burned our nostrils. During a brief stop our truck was nearly struck by a falling set of power lines. We sped out from under it as it fell where we had been parked seconds before.

The people who were still in the downtown area seemed to be in a shock-like state of apathy. They stumbled over the piles of rubble with no means of restoration. With no means of hope. The news said that some 70,000 bodies had been trucked out of the downtown area to be buried in mass graves north of the city. Many of the men and women we saw milling around in the streets had been the ones to load the trucks with the dead. What dead we no longer saw in the streets, we saw in the dark eyes and blank stares of a generation now attune to the reality of loss.

Our trip out of Port Au Prince was a slow one, through the polluted air and packed streets. We all were exhausted now. Our minds and camera memory cards full of memories that will be impossible to forget. We were leaving a war zone not caused by a war and yet a war had begun. A war for Hope. A war for Life.

During the last hour of our drive out of Haiti a gentle rain began to fall. At first we huddled for shelter, under bags of empty crates, but soon we realized it was futile. We sat, soaked to the bone, driving the last few miles of bumpy dirt roads to the Klein’s mission.

I could not wait to get home and tell people what I had seen.  I knew that my words would not do the situation justice.  I felt like the whole direction of my life had been drastically altered. I realized in that moment that excess had been my vice, and that love had begun to set me free.  All I wanted to do was bring a million tents and a thousand doctors back to Haiti.

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